Tuesday, January 31, 2012
In light of the Superbowl this coming weekend, I've been reflecting on a whole host of things I used to do to impress boys. Here, in no particular order, is that very embarrassing list.
Know About Sports
Look. Bottom line. I don't know sports. I'm one of four girls. We were raised ballet dancers, not athletes, and my poor father knew early on that we were not the "have a catch in the yard" types.
I understand the basic rules (except for "off sides"), scoring methods, and major celebrities of each game. I can also name a lot of teams and their locations, but that's mostly because I have a fairly photographic memory, and they're on TV a lot. But when it comes to actually following any given sport (aside from Boston College football from 2001-2009), I don't.
Aanddd yet in many previous circumstances I have been more than a casual fan of sports (which is the truth. I do enjoy watching them) for the sake of a given male. 99.9% of women do this, which makes it right by virtue of majority.
Know About Really Cool New Music
Here is a list of my favorite musicians: Tina Turner, Bonnie Raitt, James Taylor, Billie Joel, Billie Holiday. I'll stop there because the rest are pretty much the same.
I have never been cool in the music department. I know this because when we were little my cousin Geanna was really cool in the music department, and I was hyper aware/embarrassed about this fact. To this day she is one of the news editors of a music blog called F*cking Nostalgic, and I write listicals about lying to boys.
Buut I have been to a concert or three with a boy or so who was super into this brand new, underground, blue grass, hipster-ish, cello trio that I became similarly super into the minute I was introduced. Did I lie about liking the music? No, never. Did I make it seem as though discovering new artists was a thing I was also really into? Yes, yes I did.
Get Ready To Go Out Really, Really Fast
This is weird, but I used to have this preconception that guys respect girls who can shower and get ready really quickly. As such, this was a huge practice I adopted in college. I wasn't one of those prissy girls who needed 45 minutes and three curling irons to get ready. I was whatever about it. Who needs to get all fussy about their looks? Who's such a prima donna that they can't get out of the house in 20 minutes or less?
Um, me. I am. And when I look at all those pictures of myself from my college years I wish my current me could go give me former me a swift kick in ill-fitting pants.
Eat Daring, Meat-Centric Meals
See above. Replace "get ready really fast" with "eat crazy meals involving lots of heavy meats." I'm by no means a vegetarian posing as a meat-lover so some carnivore will love me back. I'm an adventurous eater who, outside of the company of men I want to impress, would have more likely ordered a pasta dish.
Buuut I had heard one too many guys complain about that girl who eats like a rabbit, and so I made sure to hide my healthier side until we had a few dates under our rapidly expanding belts. Note: I still kinda do this...
Be Really Short and Void of Tone in Texts
In my first few years on the dating scene I was all about personality and quirk. I'd send funny mach.com e-mails and adorable texts just to be clear this guy knew exactly what kind of wordsmith he was getting by selecting me as a (potential) girlfriend.
Then I realized that A. most guys don't need/want that much personality, that early on and B. I was spending WAY too much time editing 160-word texts into perfection.
Be Their Best Friend
I spent a lot of time from 18 to 20-oh-7? being a "guy's girl." Buddy-buddy. Not-too-feminine. "One of the guys." I was a regular plot line in a lame romantic comedy or episode of FULL HOUSE.
Until I realized that guys like girls (unless they like guys, but that's something even I can't pretend to be). They like that they can teach us stuff about sports. They like that they can make us mixed CD's of cool, new music. They like that we eat healthy, and make them eat healthy sometimes (but only sometimes...). And, if they like us, then they like our e-mails, our texts, and the outfits we come up with after 35 minutes in the closet (though they will openly admit they'd prefer it took 15).
Turns out you can't pretend your way into a boyfriend. Or, rather, you can't pretend your way into a legitimate relationship. I feel like that was probably also covered in an episode of Full House, but I was too focused on my love affair with DJ's boyfriend Steve to absorb the lesson. I would have totally pretended to love sports for him...
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Last week I had lunch with a 22-year-old boy named Ebram who is walking across America.
Yes, literally walking. Yes, literally America.
I didn't know that's what he was up to when my sister Sara connected us over e-mail. He was just a classmate of hers at Boston College (my own Alma mater) who wanted some advice on freelance writing. He did mention something about being in California on account of the beginning of a journey, but I assumed West Coast road trip, not full country foot trip.
When we set the plans, I asked if he had a car to get around, and he said he'd be getting around mostly by foot. "That's going to be tough in L.A." I told him, not knowing that L.A.'s got nothing on Colorado...in February.
Things started to become clearer when Ebram asked if the cafe I'd chosen had enough room for the push cart he uses to get from one place to another. I envisioned one of those tall, rectangular granny grocery shopping carts common to the New York city set. But Ebram's push cart is nothing something a granny would use, and it's not something that would fit in New York City. It's cart is the kind you use to, say, walk across America.
He explained his plan to me with a look that acknowledged how crazy it sounds. "But people do it all the time," he told me, "and there's a whole network of people out there to use as a resource."
I'll be honest. I thought he was crazy. I thought, you poor, sweet, idealistic Millennial biding your post-grad time with a, frankly, dangerous adventure. You're like that SNL sketch they ran two weeks ago - "You Can Do ANYTHING!" - that made fun of 20-something lost souls who believe that, so long as it fulfills them, they can absolutely make a life out of Irish step dancing while doing Chinese calligraphy.
Then my 22-year-old self slapped my 28-year-old self in the face, and I started to look at Ebram through a slightly less cynical lens.
So the kid wants to walk across America. So he's looking for a great, big adventure. So he doesn't know what to do with himself after college, but refuses to sit on his parents' living room couch.
Should we be so surprised given the way kids these days grow up? (yeah, I just said kids these days. It's come to that). Many are sheltered in non-diverse suburban communities. They collect friends on the Internet, not at the bus stop on Hollywood and Vine. They learn through text books and local field trips, not be actually going to nation's landmarks. And, and maybe rightly so, they're not allowed to ride their bikes past the end of the development.
I get why Ebram wants to walk across America. I'm still worried for him, and I'm still not sure he's going to magically know what he wants to do for a living once he gets to the other side (note: my words, not his), but he'll probably know a whole hell of a lot more about who he is, and what he's capable of handling. He'll probably also have a thousand stories from a thousand people who've lived longer than he's lived. And if he does end up following the passion that prompted our meeting - his passion for writing - then he'll no doubt have something way more specific to write about than the contents of this very blog.
"I think what you're trying to do is awesome," I told him as he prepped his push cart to take off on another leg of the great walk, and I meant it.
Why not walk across America instead of taking an entry-level job in finance? At the end of the day you'll learn way more from the walk than you'll ever learn at the bank.
And isn't that what being a 22-year-old should be all about?
You can follow Ebram's journey via his blog - Heybram.com - and Twitter - @ebrammegally. Or you can earn major karma points and host him on his trip. Go to heybram.com/ii to look at his journey map, see if he's passing through your area, and fill out the google form if you're interested in hosting. Somewhere Jack Kerouac just rolled over in his grave...
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Here is the longer version of my story recently published at Thought Catalog. The full version was only suited for smaller corners of the Internet...
I went for my very first mammogram recently because I'm getting close to 30, insurance covers it, and sometimes my left boob is a little hurt-y. I realize that is TMI for many readers of this blog (hi Dad!), but I'm disclosing in the name of safety.
Because this was my very first mammogram, I was understandably nervous about the unknown details of the procedure. For how long, exactly, would I be naked? To what degree, exactly, would they be squeezing and shoving my boob into some freezing cold device? Do I technically have enough boob to be squeezed and shoved into said device?
Here, to help you move more gracefully through your own first mammogram, is exactly what happened at mine:
1. I found a failed parking meter five minutes prior and two blocks away from my appointment!! I took this as a sign from God that I did not have cancer.
2. My doctor's office - and perhaps yours? - is now using an iPad for new patients to enter in their medical history. Despite having an iPhone, it took me 15 minutes to complete my medical history on this device. It is worth noting that I do not technically have any medical history.
3. 10 or so minutes later, a Russian woman came to retrieve me. She called me Jessica, which made me feel older, more official, and like I looked like I had this mammogram thing totally under control.
4. The woman showed me to a dressing room and handed me a pink robe. She directed me to leave my bottoms on, make sure the robe opened to the front, and go sit the pre-procedure waiting room when I was done. Then she left before I had time to ask her my 145 questions.
5. For the next 8-12 minutes I hid in the mini room debating how, exactly, to tie the robe.
Man oh man that robe... First of all, it was too long to be a tunic but too short to be a cute dress. Also, I had foolishly chosen to wear a knee-high boot that day, throwing off the already disastrous proportions. And finally, none of the placement of any of the eight ties closed the robe in any logical manner. I tied and re-tied that thing ten times before I was content enough to leave the little room, and even then there was a gaping hole around my chest area, of the not sexy-peep-hole variety.
Note: Upon arriving in the special waiting room I discovered that the reason why the robes look like crap is because they're actually the ones that are meant to tie in the back. (some rookie didn't follow directions). Brand new iPads are a lot more affordable if you're stealing gowns from the hospital, aren't they...
6. Another 10 or so minutes went by before another Russian woman came to get me for the procedure. Her name was Oksana, and she actually did look like what Oksana Baiul might look like 17 years and 35 pounds after the '94 Olympics. As such, I believe it was her.
7. Oksana brought me to a room with curiously good lighting and instructed me to lay on my side. She then squirted a gel fluid onto my boob (which was blessedly warm) and proceeded to rub my boob using one of those x-ray sticks they use to tell pregnant women if they're having a boy or a girl. I did not laugh even though it tickled like hell. I remain very proud of this fact.
Now heeere's where things got tricky.
Oksana lingered around several areas of the boob and took what I believe were photos based on a camera-like clicking sound. I had a clear view of the monitor showing the picture of whatever results from the x-ray wand, but I was too afraid to look, so I just looked up at the ceiling the whole time and focused on not giggling.
After an amount of time that I felt was particularly long based on absolutely no prior experience with this process, Oksana gave me a towel to wipe off the remaining goop. She then said two things in what I believed to be a very grave voice: "Do you have any family history of breast cancer?" (I do not) and "I need to go review your films with the doctor." And then she left, rather quickly in my opinion.
And so I'm like, okay, I have obviously cancer.
Long procedure? Family history question? Immediate need to review films with the doctor? I watched six out of eight seasons of Grey's. I know imminent bad news when they're keeping it from you. This. Was. Bad.
I spent the next 15 minutes deciding how to tell my parents and outlining the book I would write once I kicked this thing! (it was a collection of humorous essays). I may or may not have also practiced my reaction to the news, out loud. I was going to go with a combination of, "oh god..." and, "are you sure?"
While the above paragraph is written in a comedic tone, there was NOTHING comical about sitting in that room for 10 minutes and waiting to find out that I did NOT, in fact, have cancer. As it turns out the doctor ALWAYS has to review the films and ALWAYS comes in to let you know the results.
Note to Mammography Offices: THAT'S a detail you want to share with your patients before the procedure begins. MISSION CRITICAL info folks.
After the doctor informed me that I did not have cancer based on the x-ray stick results, I asked her if Oksana was going to come back and get me for the actual mammogram part. After all that unexpected nonsense I was itching to shove my boob in the freezing cold machine and get outta there!
That's when I found out that I was only scheduled for a sonogram, not a mammogram. Apparently those are the preferred method of screening these days.
Note: I did end up seeing the mammogram machine inside another examination room, and it didn’t look that scary.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
A week or so ago I got an e-mail from one of my best friends from college. The subject line: "those three words......" Her question: when, if ever? is it too early to say "I love you"??
Here is how I responded:
A. I love that you sent me this e-mail. Means the world.
B. I don't have an official answer, but I have written on the subject before. Here's that post - "Who Should Say I Love You First, and Why?" (Ed Note: yes, I market my own former blog posts to my own best friends).
But regarding the question of "WHEN" someone should say "I love you" here are my thoughts:
"I love you" for people who don't throw that term around, is a very big deal. It means, not only, I like dating you, and I want to sleep with you, and I want to be your girlfriend, but "I feel really strongly about what we have and want to see it continue to a serious way." That's why I think it scares so many people. They don't want to make that big proclamation unless they're SURE the other person feels the same way. So in that way it has nothing to do with the amount of time you've been together and everything to do with how you feel about each other. I knew I loved R after we'd been together for about 2 months. I said "I love you" around month 3.5, but that's mostly because I was all cheesy about it, and wanted to say it at a special moment. But there was no doubt in my mind about how I felt, and pretty little doubt in my mind that he felt the same.
I think THAT'S the most important part of finally saying it. Yes, there's always some doubt in your mind that the other person isn't QUITE there yet, but you mostly know that when you say it, they're going to say, "I love you too" or at least let you know how much it means to them that you're sharing that love. Some people want to have their own "I love you" moment meaning you could say it to him, and he might want to wait to say it to you in his own moment. Totally fine and understandable, in my book.
So can you say it too early? Yes, if you have no indication that the person you're with feels the same. You can "I love you" bomb someone, and that will probably not go over well. But if you're feeling it strongly, and you suspect he feels the same, it's just a very, very special formality.
Update: She said it, he said it back, and according to the exclamation point-heavy e-mail, it was very, very special.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
I read the follow excerpt from an article called "The Overjustification Effect" that I found on a website called YouAreNotSoSmart.com. I should have known any article from a website by that name would piss me off.
It's a long piece with a lot of history on psychologists' understandings of the way humans are motivated and fulfilled - interesting stuff if you're interested in that stuff. Below is the chunk that I felt most applied to me slash us. In a nutshell - if you get paid to do what you love, you'll begin to associate that work with a monetary reward versus a natural sense of fulfillment, and after awhile, you'll stop enjoying the work.
Here's the excerpt. My thoughts are below.
"Maybe your story goes like this: Work is just a means to an end. You go to work; you get paid. You exchange effort for survival tokens and the occasional steampunk thong from Etsy. Work is not fun. Work pays bills. Fun happens at places that are not work. Your story is in no danger if that’s how you see things. In an environment like that Skinner’s assumptions hold true, you will only work as hard as is necessary to keep getting paychecks. If offered greater rewards, you’ll work harder for them.
Maybe your story goes like this though: I love what I do. It changes lives. It makes the world a better place. I am slowly becoming a master in my field, and I get to choose how I solve problems. My bosses value my efforts, depend on me, and offer praise. In that scenario, rewards just get in the way of your job. As Kahneman’s and Deaton’s study about happiness showed, once you earn enough to be happy day-to-day, motivation must come from something else. As Kahneman and Deaton’s research into happiness and money showed, the only material reward worth seeking once you have a bed, running water and access to microwave popcorn, are tributes, symbols to all of your merit, stuff that demonstrates your effectance to yourself and others. Ranks, degrees, gold stars, trophies, Nobel Prizes and Academy Awards – these are shorthand indicators of your competence. Those rewards amplify your internal motivations; they build your self-esteem and strengthen your feelings of self-efficacy. They show you’ve leveled up in the real world. Achievement unlocked. They help you construct a personal narrative you enjoy telling.
The overjustification effect threatens your fragile narratives, especially if you haven’t figured out what to do with your life. You run the risk of seeing your behavior as motivated by profit instead of interest if you agree to get paid for something you would probably do for free. Conditioning will not only fail, it will pollute you. You run the risk of believing the reward, not your passion, was responsible for your effort, and in the future it will be a challenge to generate enthusiasm. It becomes more and more difficult to look back on your actions and describe them in terms of internal motivations. The thing you love can become drudgery if that which can’t be measured is transmuted into something you can plug into TurboTax."
Every time I read this excerpt I cringe a little. I am a person who falls into the second category - a person who aspires to get paid to do something I love. This theory implies that I will eventually come to dislike what I love because it will be associated with the same employer/employee frustrations of any old job.
Fine. I buy that. I see how that could becoming incredibly taxing. But what's my alternative?
Is the article really saying that I'm better off working a job I do not like and pursuing my passions on the weekend? Americans spend an outrageous percentage of their life at work. Are we just supposed to not enjoy an outrageous percentage of our life so that we don't taint the fulfillment of our passions by bringing them into the pay-for-play structure?
The article doesn't offer any advice on what you're supposed to do if you have a passion that could become your paycheck. Should you ignore it in favor of more mundane work that pays the bills? Should you find work that's close but not cigar in an effort to preserve the work you truly love?
Or should you do what I intend to do - go for it knowing that some frustrations, a different structure of motivation or a slightly tainted passion is better than ignoring the passion all together?
I demand a follow-up piece. I want to know what the frustration level of a 75-year-old who never pursued their passion looks like versus that of one who did, even at the expense of some pure joy around that art. And I really want that research to come back in favor of my life plan...
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Answer the following yes or no questions to determine just how much like Mavis Gary - Charlize Theron’s WAY less than real-life ready character in YOUNG ADULT - you are!
1. Do you wake up face down on your bed in last night’s clothes with a massive hangover more than three times each week? Y / N
2. Do you chug diet coke in a futile effort to get over that hangover? Y / N
3. Do you have a dog named after a major fashion brand or reality TV personality? Y / N
4. Do you neglect that dog on a regular basis? Y / N
5. Do you live less than 100 miles from your hometown but treat it like it’s an alien planet? Y / N
6. Are you currently harboring a deep-seeded love for a former flame that is not at all grounded in reality? Y / N
7. Is he happily married? Y / N
8. Do you often find yourself wearing the same shirt several days in a row? Y / N
9. Is it often a shirt that you woke up in one day, several days ago? Y / N
10. Have you ever had a total and complete meltdown, then immediately slept with someone
you genuinely do not like? Y / N
11. Do you believe you have the capacity to learn from your mistakes and become a better person? Y / N
12. Are you drunk right now? Y / N
Give yourself one point for every “no” answer, two points for every “yes” answer on questions 1-11, and five points for a “yes” to question 12.
20-27 points – What are you doing with your life? The answer is, all the wrong things. Put that dog up for adoption, cut back on the booze, and get over the man. Bridget Jones’ Diary is an excellent read for this sort of life transformation.
15-20 points - You’re teetering, friend. Things are touch-and-go, but you’re not quite the disaster you could probably be. Congrats for that, but watch yourself if any adorable dogs become available or former flames become engaged.
0-15 points - You’re an actual adult. Kudos! Feel free to rub this in the face of your less-than real-life-ready friends and/or siblings. You may be slightly boring, but at least you’re not anything like a fictionalized character in a dark romantic comedy.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
On the day before New Year's Eve, R and I joined his sister, brother-in-law and their four kids under the age of 12 for a day at Disneyland. Here is what we learned about parenting from that experience:
1. Don't take four kids under the age of 12 to Disneyland on the day before New Year's Eve, aka two days before the Rose Bowl, when an extra 45K people descend upon the already insanely crowded Winter Break crowds.
2. iPhones and Blackberries are an essential element of waiting in line without one child killing another. Ensure that yours' are stocked with enough games for a 60 minute Space Mountain wait.
3. When Space Mountain breaks down minute 55 of a 60 minute Space Mountain wait, it's important to remain calm to provide a positive example to the children. This will be among the hardest things you've done in your life because you JUST WAITED 55 MINUTES FOR ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!! And you didn't get to play any iPhone or Blackberry games.
4. A snack-filled child is a happy child. Buy them snacks whenever they are requested, immediately following the request.
5. It is important to have at least one child of stroller-riding age so that you can use the stroller as a moving storage locker for things like extra clothes, extra snacks, and balloon animals.
6. It is also important to have at least one child of stroller-riding age so that you, the parent, can take a break from waiting on 55 minute lines every once in awhile. Someone needs to stay with the baby...
7. Four kids is A LOT OF KIDS, jam-packed theme park or not. But sure to think about that before having four whole kids.
8. Be prepared to spend your day with your financial blinders ON. From the moment you pull up to the parking attendant, to the moment you leave you will be hemorrhaging money. Try not to think about it.
9. No child's opinion on "what to do next" should be taken into account after 9:00 pm. Between 9:20 and 9:40 their bodies will crumble in a pile of overwhelmed exhaustion. Nod and smile kindly when they say they want to stay in the park until midnight. They will never in a million years make it past 10pm.
10. Despite the long lines, the mini melt-downs, the ride malfunctions and the extreme expense, there is NO greater feeling than seeing the ear-to-ear smile on a child's face when they experience the magic of Disney. That line contain absolutely zero sarcasm, and yes, I believe Disney is magical.
Then again, R and I were with four incredible kids and two fantastic parents, who were no doubt responsible for getting us all through the day in one, happy piece.
Stay tuned for the follow-up to this piece: Things I learned about life by taking my boyfriend's parents to Disneyland over Spring Break, coming this March!
Thursday, January 5, 2012
R and I were having a conversation on the hike down from Runyon Canyon about the way I used to approach dating prior to our meeting. R likes to talk about this because it's a confidence-boosting reminder that the way I dated other people prior to meeting him was bad/wrong/ridiculous.
This specific conversation was about the psychology behind the actions of a "guarded girl." R was saying that a girl with a tough exterior can be difficult to date because a lazy guy assumes she should be treated as tough as she's acting and a sensitive guy assumes she's not into him (that's a paraphrase. He wasn't so general). I was saying that a guarded girl is guarded for a very specific reason, at least I know I was.
I'm using the term "guarded girl" here to describe how I used to feel and behave in previous dating situation, not to stereotype a entire group of female or male daters. Guarded means lots of different things to lots of different people, and it's rooted in even more different feelings. Yes, that is a giant disclaimer.
This type of "guarded" R and I were discussing - aka my former type - exhibits as a girl with a tough exterior - she's edgy, she dishes it out and she can take it right back, she isn't overly emotional. She doesn't need attention. She doesn't need affection. She doesn't need anything.
But what may seem like a personality type or act is actually more like a defense mechanism used to protect against getting hurt. The best way to explain it is to explain how the whole guarded game works using the example of giving and receiving affection in a new relationship - a real trouble zone for any guarded person. This is the example I provided R that made him look at my as if I was a foreigner and/or alien.
In this case "I" am a guarded girl/person and "you" is a guy I'm newly dating. Here goes:
If I open up and ask you to be more affectionate - small version: outwardly flirt with you more to illicit affection from you, big version: tell you I'd like if you were more affectionate toward me - I am off-setting the natural balance of things in the relationship. "Natural" would be you offering me affection because you want to offer it. Unnatural or forced is me having to illicit that affection. So by acting in a way that seems as though I don't need the attention or affection (aka being guarded), I'm testing whether or not you're inclined to be affectionate toward me naturally. In this way I can determine how much you like me (in my mind).
If this seems sick and twisted, it's because it is. Try to focus on the fact that I got over this, as most people do.
Back to guarded girl - never to be a popular Disney kids super hero.
In a nutshell - I say I need something, you give it to me because I said I needed it, not because you necessarily wanted to or would naturally have done so. This is why many a fight between this kind of girl and a guy attempting to date her goes: Guy, "well how was I supposed to know that's what you wanted?" Girl, "I shouldn't have to tell you to be more affectionate! You either are or you aren't!"
Both people are right, and yet both people are also sort of wrong. Yes, people are naturally vulnerable to a certain degree, but people can adapt for the ones' they love if they know what those people need.
Is this making sense? This notion that the reason a girl who might otherwise be an emotionally available softee wears an iron-clad dating vest is because she's testing the guy's own emotional availability? And, more importantly, that how he behaves without her prodding is a sign of how he really is and really feels?
There is logic to it, and that's not just my former self talking. Unfortunately the reality is that relationships - even early ones - are about a give and take. You MUST be willing to stick your neck out there and be clear about the kind of dynamic you're looking for in a relationship, even if it means scaring a guy away - actually, exactly BECAUSE it can mean scaring a guy away, the wrong guy.
These days I don't hold back, emotionally speaking. Mostly that's because I'm with someone who made it clear how he felt, and didn't hold back himself. But the other reason is that all the guarded game play got exhausting after awhile. Being a version of yourself fashioned to determine the boyfriend-ability of the guy you're dating just takes way too much effort after awhile.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Hello and Happy New Year after the longest blogging break I've taken to date. It felt good to take a breather from the regular writing, but it always feels better to come back.
Naturally the first post of 2012 shall be resolution-themed. Luckily this one is a two-fer.
1. Here is a link to the article I wrote for Thought Catalog - 20 Resolutions for 20-Somethings. It contains lots of advice I am giving and some advice I am taking.
2. But because this is a smaller and far more personal corner of the world wide web, below are my actual New Year's resolutions for 2012. I would like to also mention whether or not I accomplished my resolutions for 2011, but I can't remember any of them. Luckily I won't have that same problem in 2013 because they'll be right here...one more reason you should probably start your own blog in 2012.
2. Get those Dr. Scholls inserts for all my high heels - my dogs have been barking a lot more lately, and from what I can tell they're saying things like, you've got five more years before mandatory heel surgery...
3. Place more phone calls to friends - I'm in touch over e-mail, text, gchat, Facebook, and Twitter, but it's not the same.
4. Podcast - I have a feeling this was one of my resolutions from 2011...
5. Print out pictures and put them in albums - because someday I'm going to be too old to know how to use a computer, and then how will I look at all my Instagramed photos of the food I've ordered at restaurants?!
6. Be more in touch with my Meme in Minnesota and my Poppop in New Jersey - they both love to read, so I think I'll also send them books.
7. Develop more of/any form of poker face - not for the purpose of playing poker but for the purpose of conversing with crazy people, sitting in on miserable meetings, and/or convincing my boyfriend that I won't fall asleep during the movie.
8. Pack more lunches for work - the money and calorie savings make this a no-brainer.
9. Continue to address crippling road rage - and/or continue to find better short cuts during rush/all hours.
10. Go "Hm" less - So apparently I go "hm" a lot. Like, I ask you a question, you give me an answer, and I respond with "hm." My "hm" means many things. 1. I find that interesting. 2. I find that strange. 3. I find that unlikely/wrong/bad/displeasing. 4. I am now thinking more about whatever it is you said. I have been known to "hm" things like that lady inside my GPS (Her: "Turn left on Highway 405" Me: "Hm") and Siri (Her: "There is no rain in tomorrow's forecast" Me: "Hm"). Regardless of how valid the "hm" may be, I think it annoys some/all people, and I think it would be best to say either what I'm actually thinking or nothing at all.
Kindly share your hopefully equally bizarre resolutions in comments below.
And, as always, wish me luck!